Classified ads.
Berth wanted
Aspiring world traveller would like berth in boat headed for exotic shores. Adventure welcome. Prefers to avoid pirates.
A few clarifications will be useful here. Skegness does not count as an exotic shore. Neither does Clacton on Sea or other UK coastal resorts. We are after excitement and romance. Palm trees, marlin, golden white beaches. A schooner gradually edges over the horizon.
As land approaches music comes from the brightly lit bars lining the harbour. The smell of barbecued fish carries on the warm evening breeze. The boat ties up outside Joe’s Bar and Barbecue Grill. The sign is painted on a piece of driftwood plank nailed to the outside of the bar. It is still early so we manage to get a table looking out on the water. A candle in a glass jar flicks light across our faces. Inside, saxophone and piano snare.
Joe’s is a regular stop off for seaborne journeymen. Where wandering people meet. Every island has one.
His daughter Maisie welcomes us back with her wide smile and without asking brings us four cold ones. The beer revives. A week at sea builds up a thirst.
We eat chicken and crab with our fingers. Our bellies extend. Lean back, eyes closed, sounding satisfaction. I can feel it.
With a bang, Joe slaps four glasses of rum on the table. “C’mon boys, you can’t go to sleep yet. It’s early and we have a party.” We move to the bar and empty the rum. Plenty of ice. The evening is still warm. The ice is needed. Our faces glow and eventually, as the evening dies down, we fall back onto the boat and our bunks. Sleep of the just.
You have to dream. Have ambition. There is no other point.
Normally on the boat we wake up with the light. Not this day. After the exertions of the week at sea, last night finished us off. We wake around lunchtime. It’s getting hot again. Jump over the side of the boat into the harbour and climb back up the iron ladder onto the quay.
Dripping faces lifted to the sun. Smile. Maisie shouts. “Breakfast boys?” Maisie knows her customers. We settle in to our usual table. Hot strong coffee and bacon rolls. Revive. Talk about nothing. Nothing goes on here. The best way. Healthy tanned bodies. Sun bleach hair. Ropes groan in the swell. Barefeet.
At the local market we buy an old treasure map. There is an X. The journey continues. White sails take us back out to sea and the compass is set for Half Moon Island. Anchored outside the reef our tender takes us towards the beach. Angelfish fill the lagoon. Deserted white sands. We drag the boat up to the treeline.
From the hill you can see for ever. Once through the vegetation. There is no treasure but it is all about the adventure. The tender is still there and we are not chased by natives. Outside the reef we catch a tuna. Big fish. We shall not go hungry on this trip. There is no rush. No compelling reason to be anywhere. Slow pulse.
The sun sets another time.
3rd Law Part 61 here